furrbear | A Year

"How is it possible, after all, that someone should simply vanish? How can someone who lived, loved, and wrangled with God and himself just disappear? I don't know how and in what sense but they're here. Since time is an illusion, why shouldn't everything remain?"

— Issac Beshevis Singer, Shosha.

"But now I know in my heart what before I understood only in my head: We don't fall in love for reasons. This is the source of love's meaning and our obsession with it. In an age where every phenomenon is assumed to have an explanation, love keeps us human; love taps us into mystery, into that which we can't control or explain: love, and grief.

"To love is to willingly lower our defenses, a terrifying prospect in any time and place but especially so at a time and in a place where we perceive ourselves as having so much to defend ourselves against. To love is to give oneself over to another, to entrust to someone else a power that all good sense would have us reserve to ourselves. So we give away some part of ourselves, to find that part returned to us tenfold, in ways we never could have predicted and cannot rationally understand. Loaves and fishes. Miracles happen."

"I love better now, more wholly and completely, not because I have learned some exotic technique but because I know death."

— Fenton Johnson, Geography of the Heart.

Thank you, BooBoo, for the years and the unlimited love. I love you, Yogi.

One year ago this morning:
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